


If He Loved Me

by eatreadwritesleep



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Death, M/M, Sad Ending, Suicide, Zayn is a good bro, harry is in so much pain, i'm so sorry for such sadness, louis is gone, this is horrible really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:48:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1922148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatreadwritesleep/pseuds/eatreadwritesleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: Write this. An imagine where Louis kills himself when him and Harry fight and Harry pretends like he doesn’t care like through the whole funeral and at the end says something rude like he deserved to die and Niall or Liam slap him and he leaves then when him and Zayn talk he would open up and cry…lots of fluff and I love you bby</p>
            </blockquote>





	If He Loved Me

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Suicide, descriptions of a dead body
> 
> Please be careful.

Louis had always had a problem with self worth. He was positive that if he had ever taken the step to get help, he’d be diagnosed with depression, or something similar, because there was no way he could hate himself so much, hurt so much inside, and think about death so often for it to not be some sort of problem with his head.

 

He’d never told Harry.

 

He’d never told anyone.

 

Instead he perfected his smiles, perfected his laugh, and hoped that he could make it off of love alone.

 

It didn’t work.

 

They got into a massive fight and everything attacked him at once, crowded him, suffocated him, and he’d driven to a local pharmacy, swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills, and cried and shook and trembled and begged for forgiveness until he fell asleep.

 

And never woke up.

.

.

.

 

Harry had found him.

 

He’d come back to their room after an entire day fuming but realizing that not going home was never worth it.

 

Not coming back to Louis was never, ever worth it.

 

So he’d walked in and found Louis curled up on the bed, walked closer, saw the paleness of his face, eyes still partially open, tears streaks on his cheeks, drool and bile dried up on his mouth and the pillow.

 

He didn’t touch him. He hadn’t had to touch him to know that he was dead. He wanted to touch Louis when he was warm. Not still and cold and dead. Not dead.

 

Instead he’d screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed until the neighbors called the cops, and still screamed, until someone grabbed his phone and dialed the first number they found, which was Liam’s, and still screamed, as the rest of his boys rushed into the room and held on to him, and still screamed, until his voice gave out and his mind figured it’d be better if he were unconscious then be in such raw turmoil.

.

.

.

 

He didn’t talk until the funeral.

.

.

.

 

The funeral was horrible.

 

There really wasn’t such a thing as a good funeral.

 

Yes, people reminisced on the good times shared with their loved one, but that was the problem, because that loved one was never coming back.

 

Louis was _never coming back_.

 

And then there was Jay and Louis’ sisters. Lottie was seated, face in her hands. Fizzy was standing still, as if she were in shock. The twins’ faces were hidden as they hugged their mother, who hugged them back, trying to stay strong for all of them..  They were so devastated. So broken. So lost, without him.

 

Louis was _never coming back._

 

Harry stood in the back with his hands in his pocket and face void of emotion.

 

Liam, Niall, and Zayn spent the majority of the funeral glancing back at Harry worriedly. In fact, most of the people who knew Harry regarded him warily.

 

Harry was never so calm. Never so cold.

 

The priest asked if anyone wanted to view the body one last time before the closing of the coffin.

 

Finally, Harry made his way up. The room was eerily silent as Harry stood before Louis, before Louis’ cold, dead, body, and stared impassively down at it.

 

At him.

 

“I hope you rot.” he whispered, and the everyone gasped.

 

He heard a few people call his name but they didn’t matter. Not when the love of his life was dead before him.

 

“I hope you’re in hell. I hope you’re burning and I hope you suffer. I hope you’re alone. You deserve it.”

 

He took another deep breath.

 

“I hate you.”

 

Someone’s arms wrapped around him and literally dragged him from the cathedral. Then he was dropped on his feet and shoved. He turned around and came to face with a furious Liam.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” Liam screamed.

 

Harry shrugged, putting his hands back in his pockets.

 

“You don’t talk at all, and when you finally do, you say this?! Stop it Stop acting like this!” Liam continued, grabbing a hold of Harry’s shoulders.

 

“Stop acting like what, Liam?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side.

 

“Like you don’t care.” Liam replied, his grip tightening.

 

“I don’t.”

 

Niall covered his face from where he was standing and sat on the ground, whispering a string of curses, now knowing what else to say.

 

“Don’t say that.”

 

Harry laughed. “Don’t say what? The truth?”

 

“Harry.” called Zayn, and Harry ignored him.

 

“I’ll say it again, and again, and again. I. Don’t. Care.”

 

Liam released Harry suddenly and reeled his hand back, a strong palm colliding with Harry’s skin, the slap hard enough to echo.

 

Harry staggered to the side clutching his cheek.

 

“Liam!” Zayn shouted, rushing to hold him back from hitting Harry again.

 

Harry straightened up to stare at Liam, and wow, he wanted Liam to hit him again, so he could hit back. He could trash this boy, he could tear him apart, and he was sure of it, because there was a burning anger festering in him, a rage bubbling up inside that he had never felt in his life, an agony he didn’t know how to deal with, and he was ready to lunge at any opportunity to lessen the burden of his shattered heart.

 

“Why should I care?” Harry spat, and the rest of the boy’s flinched at his tone, so dark, and so angry. “Why?” Harry continued, “When he left me like this? He obviously didn’t care for me like I care…cared for him. He wouldn’t have-he wouldn’t-

 

Harry stopped talking. He gave up trying to explain himself, to justify this seething hatred, this soul crushing sadness, and just walked away.

 

Everything blurred as he made his way to wherever, the time, the people he passed, his thoughts, until he blinked back into awareness to see that it was dark outside, he was seated beneath a tree, and Zayn was seated next to him.

 

“Welcome back.” said Zayn, and Harry shrugged.

 

“Were you here the whole time?” asked Harry.

 

Zayn nodded. “I followed you.”

 

Harry looked up at the sky, smelling the oncoming rain in the air.

 

“It’s dark now.” Harry mumbled.

 

Zayn looked up at the sky as well. “That it is.” he agreed.

 

Harry shook his head. “No…it’s dark…inside.”

 

Zayn turned to look at him but Harry waited until the rain started to fall to elaborate. In a few minutes they were soaked.

 

“Louis was my light.” Harry whispered, and Zayn shifted closer. “Louis was my light and without him, it’s dark. Everywhere.”

 

The rain continued to fall.

 

“I do care,” said Harry, “So why didn’t Louis? Why didn’t he care enough to stay? Why didn’t he love me enough to stay?”

 

And Harry broke, body heaving with sobs as Zayn rushed to hold him close.

 

“How could he leave me all alone? I don’t even remember what we were arguing about, but how, how was it enough,” he gasped, “how was it enough for him to leave me like this? What could I have possibly sad to him that he would want to die?” Harry asked, desperately clinging to Zayn.

 

Zayn rocked Harry back and forth. “I…I don’t think it was you, Harry.”

 

Harry peeked up at him with reddened eyes.

 

“For him to do…something like this, something so permanent, I think he wasn’t well.”

 

Harry shook his head, crying harder. “But I’ll never know. He didn’t leave me a note. He didn’t even say goodbye. I just came back and he was gone.”

 

Zayn sighed, trying to keep his tears at bay. This was Harry’s time to cry. He could cry later. He would cry later.

 

“I don’t know,” Zayn mumbled, “I don’t know why he did it. I don’t know if he really was sick. But I do know that he loved you. He loved you so much, Harry.”

 

“But he’s gone, Zayn, and he’s not coming back and I love him too and I would say it every minute of every day for the rest of my life, I would do anything to have him back, and it won’t happen, he’s lying in a coffin and he’s going into the ground and I, I need him, I need him back, I need to hold him and kiss him and I can’t, he’s gone, he left me here, he left me behind, and I don’t get how he could have loved me and done something like this-

 

“No Harry, please. It’s not your fault, and it’s…it’s not his. The mind is weird, okay? The mind, when it’s not…well, it makes you feel things and think things and it can be really bad up there, and maybe it was like that for Louis, but I know that he loved you, and you know that he loved you too, because there’s no way to fake a love like that.”

 

They sat in silence for a long while, large drops dripping from the leaves and pelting down on them, the wind sometimes blowing the pouring rain in their direction, but neither cared.

 

“I don’t know what to do.” Harry cried.

 

Zayn kissed Harry’s hair softly. “None of us do, but we’ll figure it out together.”

 

“I don’t see how this can, I don’t, how can I go on if he’s not here?” Harry asked brokenly.

 

Zayn held him tighter. “We’ll be right beside you the whole way, Harry. You’re not alone, you hear me? We’re right here, and we’re with you, so please try with us. We can’t lose you too.”

 

Harry nodded, clinging to Zayn’s soaked blazer, out of words to give.

 

“Let’s get you home babe. My house. I’ll call someone to pick us up.”

 

Harry closed his eyes and dreamed of Louis.

 


End file.
